


Like I Do

by Dragestil



Category: The Yogscast
Genre: Gen, Origin Story, Pre-Hatsome, Pre-Relationship, Urban Magic Yogs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-10
Updated: 2015-09-10
Packaged: 2018-04-20 03:11:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4771283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragestil/pseuds/Dragestil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Smith destroyed the church that Ross called home, but now he promises something so much more than a rotting steeple. But why?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like I Do

From where he sat on crumbling stone stairs, he could still smell the burnt incense and charred wood. He hadn’t realised there even was incense left when the flames started licking at the walls, but there was. Long forgotten it had seeped into the church’s pores and cracks until every pop and crack brought with it a fresh wave of that most holy smell. He closed his eyes against the memories. It was best not to think about that all.

All around him, the world was quiet. A thick blanket of snow already draped the streets and more continued to fall in dizzying spirals to the ground. He blinked snowflakes off his eyelashes and watched them tumble away from his cool form. He wondered briefly how long he had been sitting for. Without the familiarity of the church’s bells to tell time, it all seemed to blend together. It could have been hours since the fire - or months. Had it been this cold for long?

“Hey!”

He snapped out of his thoughts and lifted his head as a sleek car pulled up in front of the ex-church. It wasn’t built for the weather, but before its tires snow instantly melted away, leaving a safe path. From the driver’s side, a man appeared. The gargoyle sped through his recollection for where the face was from until it hit him. Smith had come back. He blinked again.

“You want some hot cocoa, mate?” the kelpie said, smiling as he jogged over with a thermos in one hand and a thick blanket in the other to join Ross. “You been out here all night?”

Ross didn’t know what to say as he stood slowly to be on more even ground. He looked from the tall man to the falling snow to the open passenger window of the car. He wondered if it was possible to lose his magic for no longer having the place where he was made. His eyes trailed back to meet Smith’s bright gaze.

“Time to get you home. Then we can do the hot cocoa!”

Smith wrapped the blanket around the gargoyle’s shoulders before almost tenderly brushing the snow out of Ross’ dark hair. He let his fingers trail over the short horns it poorly hid and tried not to grin at the way it seemed to shock the other. He wrapped his free hand loosely around Ross’ wrist, tugging him toward the car.

“Hop in! Don’t be shy.”

Ross nodded silently and sat down in the seat when the door was opened for him. He inhaled as he registered that the heat was turned all the way up, filling the car with warmth even with an open window. Was this for him? He couldn’t catch a cold. Still, he relaxed without thinking into the seat, and his fingers played with the hem of the blanket. He didn’t notice when Smith sidled into the driver’s seat or when the car peeled away from the curb and took off into the night.

He had never expected Smith to return after burning down the church. He didn’t seem...the type maybe, Ross was unsure. The kelpie felt young and reckless and full of the bravado that comes with both. But the gargoyle swore he had seen something in those impossibly bright eyes that was more. And now he was what? Taking care of Ross? Was that...a thing?

“We’re here!” Smith cheerily interrupted the gargoyle’s thoughts once again. “It’s not much, but I haven’t found anywhere better yet. I only just moved from the lake.”

That was right. Smith wasn’t even from around here. Ross wondered what had brought anyone so full of life to this dying town. Then he turned to thoughts of what had brought Smith the the church, decrepit and still over-soaked in religious righteousness and judgment. Surely there was nothing for a kelpie there.

“Do you ever talk?”

“Yes,” Ross said, and his voice surprised even him. He paused in the doorway he was being led through.

“You never said your name, y’know? I mean I guess you were busy trying to get out but...I probably can’t just keep calling you mate. Well I could but-”

“I’m Ross.”

“Ross? Not a very...statue-y name.”

“I’m a gargoyle.”

“And I’m a kelpie - but I told you that last time. Are you warm enough? - Wait, no. Do you even feel warmth?”

Smith’s brows furrowed, and for a moment Ross could see genuine concern etched into his face. It smoothed out only slightly as the taller of the two back-stepped into his small flat and ushered the gargoyle in. The door locked itself automatically as it shut behind them as a protection sigil flashed briefly on the handle.

“Yeah. I can feel everything.”

“You must’ve been freezing,” the kelpie said, voice trailing off as he gazed around the barely furnished living room. His eyes caught on the apparent fire pit situated in the middle of the floor. “Don’t tell management but I made some renovations.”

He crossed the room and bent over the unsanctioned addition, shielding it momentarily from Ross’ gaze. When the kelpie stood back up, the first flickers of fire were licking at the tinder and carefully arranged logs. He motioned to the sagging couch even as he fell like a stone onto a mattress laid out on the floor. He closed his eyes, sighing contentedly as the radiant warmth of open flames spread throughout his temporary home.

“Why did you bring me here?” Ross asked after a moment.

Smith glanced over to where the gargoyle had perched himself carefully on the overstuffed cushions.

“Told ya, it was time for you to come home.”

“This isn’t my home. The ch-”

“That old place? Nah, mate. Maybe it was before, but it’s gone now. Besides, you’re a free man - well, gargoyle I suppose, but same thing really. Figured you might want to stay with me if you didn’t have anywhere else to go.”  
“There are other places,” Ross murmured, though the way his gaze clung to the floorboards said otherwise. He sighed. “It’s not that easy anyway.”

“How’s that?”

“I’m a gargoyle. I was bound there by magic. I was created to protect that place and now...it’s gone.”

“Then you’re free, like I said!”

“I can’t just...go running off, Smith. My magic was made to serve. Without a purpose, I’ll probably just go dormant again.”

“Dormant?”

“Yeah. Like I was until you showed up. As long as the church was safe, and no one was there, I was just like any other statue.”

“Do you want to go back to being like that?”

Ross paused. He had never given much thought to any of this, but particularly himself - what he wanted to do. He was built to fulfil a certain function, wasn’t he? Did his own desires even matter?

“No,” he said after a long while, finally shifting his head to catch Smith’s gaze. “But I don’t see what else I can do.”

“You just need a purpose right? Some binding magic thing and bam you’ve got a new lease on life?”

“I can’t just guard anywhere, Smith. It’s deep magic, old.”

“So is my lake - just makes things more interesting. I’ll do it.”

“Do what?”

“Bind you to me, mate, what else?”

“What?”

“No one can burn me down or loot me or whatever shit happened at that church. You don’t have to babysit me - I can look after my own shit. But I bet your magic won’t think that. You’ll never have to be dormant. Then you can go off and do whatever it is you want to do.”

Smith’s gaze grew distant as his voice faded away, replaced only by the crackling of the fire and the soft dripping of water where melted snow slipped from Ross’ still form. He fell back into his memories, his true youth ages ago. He remembered the trips he would take into town, picking out future victims and trying to learn just what made mortals do the things they did. But more he remembered the bells, and the tall steeple towering high above him. He remembered the stone guardians clinging to their eternal posts, staring down to meet his wandering eyes. Most, though, most he remembered the one that blinked, the gargoyle with short horns and a long tail that saw through him and blinked.

“Why would you do this?”

“No one else could - or would. No one else knows you like I do.”

 


End file.
